The driver ahead of me hesitated
physically straddling the line between turning or not
as one does when a decision is uncertain.
It was a small car, road-dirty with out-of-state plates
and a single occupant, a man whose greying hair
was visible in the early morning light.
As I would too, he pulled through the light in the turn lane
and it was curiosity, I confess, that soon had me alongside him
for just a moment before pulling ahead.
Perhaps mid-60s, needing a shave but not a haircut.
A look of concentration with his left hand on the wheel
and his right clutching a sheet of paper.
A few moments later I looked for him in the mirror, but he was gone.
Where was he going, this far from home?
Where was I going, this close to home?
Shaking the thought, I slowed once more
dutifully put on my signal
and made a turn into the rising sun.